When you think about the refugees’ plight, stranded and struggling, your mind takes you to many places. Like war and camps — but will it ever take you to a comedy on a Scottish island? Will it take you through hen-kidnappings and Friends‘ box sets?
It sure won’t but here’s the thing…Limbo will. And Limbo will also take you on a journey that you just won’t imagine. It certainly took us there and now we have to tell you all about it.
warning: might contain spoilers
Plot
Hot Chocolate’s It Started With A Kiss plays for several minutes as two white teachers dance. If you think it’s a bit absurd, you’re not alone. Once the camera pans to the class of black and brown refugee men, you’ll see they think it’s ridiculous too.
Everything about their lives on this Scottish island is. And we quickly see this too. Omar (Amir El-Masry) shows us.
His days are split between cultural-awareness classes, walking around with his oud-case, watching Friends with his roommates, calling his parents, and waiting to be granted asylum.
The days repeat themselves so insistently that it feels like we, like Omar, are stuck in limbo, just waiting. But Omar isn’t in one loop — he’s in two.
When he’s not on his daily walk, he’s watching that video of his family on repeat, hearing their ‘we love you‘s again and again. He only stops it after he sees himself on stage about to play. Avoiding anything (including oud) that reminds him of who he used to be.
That oud is Omar’s saving grace in the end. After arguments and reluctance to embrace life, Omar finally reaches a conclusion that is as cathartic for him as it was for us.
Characters and performance
Omar is incredibly complex. At the beginning, we only know he has a oud-case and a blue jacket. We never really know what he’s seen in Syria or how he left. Not really.
All we see is his eyes, tired and angry, and we get it. He’s been through hell and now he’s finally made it…but made it to what exactly? Omar doesn’t know and neither do we.
We sense his resigned misery as he does nothing but wait and wallow, ignoring the oud in his hands. He also ignores what everyone tells him (a musician who doesn’t play is a dead man) and ignores the gnawing guilt he feels about leaving his parents and not calling his brother, still in Syria.
All this is to say, Amir El-Masry spun a wonderful performance. With Omar struggling with many a personal demon, El-Masry paints his psychological layers meticulously, making for a magnum opus of a performance!
But credit can’t just go to Amir El-Masry alone. The roommates Farhad, Abedi, and Wasef (Vikash Bhai, Kwabena Ansah, Ola Orebiyi) did wonders of their own. Especially Farhad as the ever-optimistic, Freddy Mercury-loving Afghan refugee, who tries to push Omar out of his state of limbo.
With a story of their own, Abedi and Wasef deal with the weight of dreams that might just be out of reach and disappointment that this was simply not what they thought ‘safe haven‘ would be.
And the same can be said for the other refugee characters in class, with one even saying “I used to be happy before I came here” — such few words that show how complex his plight, like many refugees, is.
Verdict
It’s not often that you see a film like this. See, when people think about the sheer horrors that refugees are going through, they don’t think comedy. But Limbo works. It’s respectful, introspective, and cheeky at the expense of those who seem to forget refugees are still people.
